


Stone Cold

by TylerM



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonding, Cold, Cute, Dean gets cold, Dean has a tell, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Protective Sam, Sick Dean, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8553064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TylerM/pseuds/TylerM
Summary: Dean Winchester doesn't get sick very often, but when he does he has a tell. He gets very cold. Of course Sam knows this, along with anyone else close to the man.
- Or the sick fic where Dean get's cold and refuses he's sick, or that he has a thing. Shut the hell up Sammy. Set towards the end of Season 6 because I really liked the whole Dean/Lisa arch and that got brutally ripped away from him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've watched about 4 seasons of Supernatural in two weeks. I'm obsessed and sorry for this. I just love Dean so very much and he gets nothing but tortured. This is set after the whole Lisa thing and before the whole end of season 6 (lets just pretend okay). Cute fluff about a sick macho Dean, what more can you expect?

Honestly, considering their lifestyle Sam's just surprised they both don't suffer from more health problems. Generally he supposes they get lucky because they're two grown males who are reasonably healthy despite eating at more diners and take out places then recommended by any health experts in America.

They stay fit by running after demons and each other, and being possessed by so many freaking monsters mean they're constantly dead tired, but rarely ill.

_Go figure right?_

It's some kind of poetic justice Sam guesses. Between the two of them they've got more mental health issues then the entire state of Kentucky, but they very rarely seem to get physically sick. Sure Sam will get a headache on the road, or Dean will come down with a cough. But because they're constantly on the move, they rarely get sick.

They work for 2 weeks straight and then crash for 3 days where Dean will literally be knocked out for over 72 hours, recuperating his immune system. It's not a healthy lifestyle, so many things about their lifestyle is so very far from healthy, but it seems to work.

Until it doesn't.

They've been on the road for two weeks straight, catching as many demons as they can to stay busy. Coincidently, it's been two weeks since Dean had Cas erase him from Lisa and Bens memory, which would be why Deans been running Sam constantly with cases, and himself to the ground. He's not sleeping, Sam knows that because he wakes up when Dean does due to nightmares, breathing heavily and thrashing around on the bed, whispering Lisa's name.

He sounds like he's been crying.

Sam doest say anything, sits their silently in the dark until he can hear Dean calm down. But his breathing never slows down again, and sometimes he turns on the light when he thinks Sam won't wake up.

Sure, there's about a million reasons why Dean would be trying to stay busy and not sleeping. It's not overly uncommon, Dean didn't sleep much after Hell. Crowley's still on their backs like a bad fucking smell and Cas is two shakes away from losing his mind. Not to mention the whole Apocalypse, Lucifer and _end of the bloody world thing_.

 But it's just details at this point, honestly.

Sam knows Dean's cut about Lisa and Ben, knows that despite how much he hated him and Bobby for doing that to him, lying to him, he really loved the family he created even though it wasn't completely conventional. Even though he'd never say it aloud to himself, let himself believe it he really just wanted a normal family. He has always been so caring and sweet when he lets himself be. Sam knows he would have made an amazing father, yet feels he made all the same mistakes their Dad did and blames himself for putting them in danger like that. The guilt combined with despair is eating him alive.

Sam can't blame him, but he will never understand the guilt Dean feels. He'll never have that.

Circling around, not only is Dean being more emotionally stunted than usual, running them to the ground in cases, and _not sleeping_ , now he's sick.

Which, again, doesn't happen often. Luckily. But now, Sam is not so lucky. Because Dean is sick, which he would never admit. Making Sam's life that tiny bit more complicated than it needs to be.

Dean is pro at not getting sick, not because he takes care of himself, he's just lucky not to get sick really. But he has a tell, a very subtle one to most people expect if you're Sam, and Bobby.

The thing is, Dean usually runs quiet warm. Warmer than most people at least as far as Sam can tell. He's always been like that when they were kids, usually why ne never minded those late night stake outs and crappy motels with itchy blankets, he'd kick them off during the night anyway. But when he's sick, he gets cold. Like, abnormally cold. It's the first sign to tell if Deans getting ill, he starts shivering, wearing more layers and covering up in blankets when they get to motels. It's not very subtle, it's so conspicuous Sam has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes as Dean tries to conceal his shivering and deny that he's wearing four layers, _shut the hell up Sam._

Sam can remember when they were younger, Dean who seemed like superman to him at the time and never got sick, curled up in a motel room when he was 10 shivering under the blankets. Can remember the rare, tender moments John shared with Dean, when he scooped the smaller boy up in his arms, kissing him on top of the head,

_"What's wrong with Dean Dad?" Six year old Sam asks, as John takes a seat on the bed holding Dean tightly. He looks embarrassed, at 10 being curled up on his dads lap, but not enough to move._

_"He's cold Sammy, Dean always loses body temperature when he's sick," John replies easily and opens his other arm for Sam who quickly jumps on the bed and into the arms. Cuddling up to his Dad and Dean and kisses his big brother on the head._

_"We'll keep you warm Dean," Sam replies and Dean chuckles slowly, cheeks red with embarrassment but he looks on fondly,_

_"Thanks Sammy,"_

Sam can remember other times, years later when he was 15 and a bad case of the flu, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, far too old to be cuddled or molly coddled, and by this time their dad had grown harder.

Still, John had lent over the couch, rubbing Deans arms roughly but with tender, keeping him warm. Asking him how he was feeling in a gentle, quite tone he mainly reserved for victims trying to keep them calm when monsters attacked. Dean rolled his eyes, claiming to be annoyed by the antics, Dean _knows_ when John is this careful it means he's worried, and he's the big brother he doesn't need to be worried about. The shiver that racks through his body betrays his teenage angst and he pouts when John smiles at him fondly, messing up his hair by running fingers through it.

These moments are far and in between, but Sam likes seeing his brother less shut out. He watches John place a kiss on his head, a sneaky obvious way to check the boys temperature which Dean catches on to and protests loudly, but he just grins at the boy and continues massaging his hands up and down his arms to try and warm him up.

When Dean leans into the touch nobody says anything.

Sam worries even though he's aware there is little to worry about, but the nagging thought of seeing his dad so gentle when the man never is means something isn't right.

Even Bobby knew the older boys tell, and whenever he was over resting between cases, shivering like an Eskimo the man would put on the fire and make some soup, concealing the boy in blankets.

Dean doesn't like it anymore, probably only tolerated it when he was younger if Sams being honest. He doesn't let people baby him or coddle him, he's a grown ass man. He doesn't need it. He hunts demons for a living for gods sake. He isn't the 10 year old who sits on Dads lap anymore when he's cold. He can tough it out for a few days, he's fine.

That's what he tells himself, and that's what he tells Sam when he stupidly brings it up at breakfast the next morning.

Really Sam should have known better.

 They've just finished a case, burnt the bones of a woman who had come back to kill men who looked like the husband who had murdered her. They'd decided to stop for breakfast before hitting the road again. Well, Sam had insisted they stop for breakfast so he'd have some time to convince Dean to go back to Bobby's for a few days. He was going to try and convince him he needed the break, from you know, the whole Soul recovery thing.

He had picked up half way through the night that Dean, after acting a bit weird all day was wearing four layers under his coat. When he started to shiver a bit, slamming his hands in his pockets and started growling nonsense at him, Sam knew it was bad.

This morning was so much worse and Dean is awful at concealing when he's cold, hence awful at pretending he's not sick.

He's also awful at pretending like he _hasn't_ stolen Sam's jumper to wear under his jacket, something Sam can't remember him doing in years. Which means Dean must be feeling really awful.

Sam already knows this is going to be a long day as he sees the peak of the gray jumper under his brothers coat and sighs.

"Jesus Sam can we just shut up and eat?" Dean growls at his younger brother but it comes out far more moodily then he would like.

They've been sitting at the diner for an hour now and Sam's been trying to convince him to go to Bobby's. Sam would also love to point out the irony in shutting up and eating, as Dean has barely touched his bacon and eggs he ordered over 40 minutes ago. But he knows that will just get him the famous bitch face.

Sam rolls his eyes instead, which he knows is not appreciated, "Look, we've had case after case none stop for weeks. Let's just go back to Bobby's for a bit to regroup, okay?"

Dean glares at him, "No we keep going," leaving no room for discussion.

"Dean,"

"Sam,"

They have a staring contest for about 30 seconds before Dean can't keep it up any longer and starts to cough into his hand.

"For gods sake," He spits out angrily as he coughs and even Sam looks at him surprised. Looking at his brother up close he can see dark circles under his eyes and how tired he actually looks. He doesn't miss the shiver that runs through his body, and wishes Dean would just stop for a minute. He's been working himself up into a strop, emotionally cut off more than normal.  He truly is getting really sick, and Sam doesn't like it.

Dean wipes his hands on the napkin angrily and looks up at Sam warily from hooded lids.

"Don't say a word," He warns carefully and if Sam didn't know any better he'd say he's almost embarrassed.

Sam puts his hands up in surrender, eyeing off his brother carefully though and Dean can feel his eyes burning into his head. He groans, Sam hasn't even said anything in minutes and he's already pissing him off.

He feels like shit, his throat is sore and everything hurts and for god sakes he's so damn cold. But why can't Sam let him be cold in peace?

"Are you going to eat your bacon?" Sam asks like the little shit he is after another moment of silence and Dean all but glares at his little brother. Fucking perceptive dick if he doesn't want to eat the bacon he won't eat the bloody bacon it has nothing to do with his stomach doing flip flops and the nausea building up inside him.

Of course not.

Instead Dean just slams his fork down in anger, in a defined, manly, decisive move and not a tantrum like Sam will later explain it to Bobby, and pushes his hands in his coat pockets.

"Alright come on we're going to Bobbys." He grunts out and Sam tries not to smile too widely at winning the argument.

They reach the Impala and Sam hesitates before he sits down, looking at Dean concerned,

"Hey maybe,"

"If you honestly sit there and tell me I shouldn't be driving I will break your nose." Dean warns darkly before Sam can finish.

Sam just nods grimly, and doesn't say anything when Dean turns the heat right up mumbling about smart ass little brothers.

-/-/-/-

"Look what the cat dragged in," Bobby greets them hours later after a very uncomfortable car ride. Dean had been silent and broody most if it, only acting any part human when he coughed into his arm or shivered so violently Sam was worried he would lose control.

He still denied to his bone that he wasn't feeling well, even despite Sam mentioning that whenever he has been sick in the past, he lost body temperature.

_"I'm just saying that Dad used to say," Sam starts but is cut off roughly,_

_"Do not start spitting Dad logic to me now Sam," He sounds angry but Sam can tell it's more put out than anything else._

_"I wasn't going to spit Dad logic, I was going to say he told me you always get cold when you're sick. It's your thing,"_

_"My thing?" Dean repeats annoyed, but Sam can tell he's embarrassed that Sam remembers something so private about him. He didn't think Sam would remember._

_Sam just looks scandalized, as if he hasn't been around Dean his whole life and been able to pick up on one of the man's only human tendency that shows he isn't made of metal, "Yeah you're thing, you always get cold when you're sick."_

_Dean just snorts in disbelief and keeps his eyes firmly on the road and he shivers again, "No I don't."_

_He sees Sams mouth move to say something else and he stops when Dean cuts in, "No shut the hell up. Shut up. We're going to Bobbys."_

_"Bobby knows too," Sam almost sing songs and the scandalized look he receives was totally worth it._

_"No he doesn't, shut up." Dean grunts._

_Bobby's known them since they were kids, of course he knows. Sam reframes from telling Dean about the time he remembers Dean curled up on Bobby's lap when he was 9, sick with bronchitis, a blanket draped over them as they watched shitty reality TV.  He figures Deans in enough pain right now, he'll embarrass him later._

"Shut up douchebag, let us in," Dean says roughly, moving past Bobby with his duffle bag swung around his shoulder. Sam just gives Bobby an apologetic smile and Bobby rolls his eyes.

"How's he doing?" Bobby asks.

Sam had called him in the morning informing him he was trying to get Deans ass over there, he could feel the old man rolling his eyes over the phone and telling Sam to get his stupid ass brother over here before he killed himself.

"He could be worse," Sam replies.

Bobby grunts, "So he could be better,"

Sam just smiles lightly and follows the man into the house. He sets his own duffle bag next to the couch Dean has now occupied, lying horizontal with his palms pressed to his eyes. Sam just cocks his head to the side looking at his brother thoughtfully, he wonders briefly how often he is sick but not enough for Sam to tell. And when he was doing this on his own, did he run himself to the ground and curl himself into a crappy motel bed with as many blankets as he could, ignoring it until he got better?

"Here Ass Hat," Bobby says as he comes into the longue room and throws a mountain of blankets on top of Dean, "I've got soup on, it's from a can don't expect anything fancy."

Before Dean can even protest Bobby has left the room leaving him spluttering in annoyance and Sam not even trying to pretend he isn't laughing at his older brother.

"What?" Dean spits out, he's holding one of the blankets in his hands torn between simply throwing it off the couch and wrapping it around his shivering shoulders. God damn it.

Sam just shrugs at him innocently, like he isn't highly amused.

"I don't need soup," He grunts out, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest and ignoring the blankets that he has thrown to the side. Even if he is cold, he won't use them now on principle.

"Whatever you say Dean," Sam says patting him on the shoulder gently, not very conspicuously trying to tell if Deans temperature has dropped dangerously. The way Dean shrugs him off lets him know how obvious he is, "I wouldn't mind some soup."

Dean grumbles something inaudible (Sam thinks he hears douche bag but he can't be sure) and he greets Bobby in the kitchen.

"Here, take your stubborn ass brother this," Bobby hands him a bowl of soup while pouring out two more. Sam smiles gratefully.

"Thanks Bob, you didn't have to go out of your way like this. I just wanted him to stop for a bit, catch up with himself," Sam admits.

Bobby grunts quietly, something Sam has learnt to interpret over the years as his caring grunt, not the angry one.

"Stubborn as a mule that one. It's not like its something I haven't done before, and I'll probably do it again," Bobby says and Sam smiles.

He remembers all the times their Dad dropped them at Bobby's doorstep, unannounced and frustrated. When they weren't on the road hunting demons or in crap 2 star hotels they were at Bobbys, causing some kind of havoc in his back yard and being general menaces to his life.

He doubts Bobby would have it any other way.

He takes the soup to Dean, not commenting on the way the older man has given in and draped the blanket over his legs, curled up into the side of the couch. Sam makes Dean look smaller sometimes because of his incredible height, but looks can be deceiving because Dean is not short.  However curled up under a blanket right now he can pass for quite small.

Sam takes the spot next to him, leaving quite a gap between them but smirks at the way Dean self consciously fiddles with his blanket. Sam knows to keep his mouth shut though, Dean is like a scared animal. Any sudden movements on Sam's behalf might scare him away.

Bobby too enters the room, with his soup, and takes the arm chair turning the TV on to some channel playing a Chuck Norris movie.

It's not playing for more than 20 minutes before Sam looks over to see Dean fast asleep, head looping over the side of the couch and legs pulled up to his chest.

Same smiles to himself, at least he's finally stopped.

-/-/-/-/-

Bobby goes to bed after the movie, it's late and they very rarely get time off like this so Bobby wants to snag it all sleeping. Sam has a bed in one of the rooms upstairs, one he claimed long ago as his own when they spent nights over as kids. But he chooses to stay with Dean on the couch, watching some weird movie late at night.

It's not like Dean will appreciate the company if he wakes up to find Sam watching him. Choosing the god damn couch over his own bed. Dean will call him stupid and probably send him to his room like a petulant child. But Dean would do the same for him, and he knows deep, _deep_ down, he hates being sick and likes the company.

_Somewhere_ in there is the same boy who curled up on his dad lap at 10, cold, sick and looking for comfort.

It's not like Sam is one to talk, he hates getting sick as much as Dean does. It's such a juxtaposition on the life that they lead it seems absurd to be brought down by something so simple as a common cold. It's embarrassing.

On the other hand, he likes to think they've both prided themselves on stepping slightly away from the stereotypical hunter like their Father. They're more open to suggestions, help from others, the understanding human desire that this is not a normal life and you shouldn't treat it as one. Sure, they're not about to spill they're feelings out 24 hours a day and Dean very actively avoids any chick flick moments, but they're brothers, they share a certain bound where Sam thought they could trust each other with this kind of thing.

If they can't be normal and vulnerable to the world, in their safe little spot together they can be.

Apparently Dean doesn't feel like way.

Sam won't take it personally though, he'll try not to at least. He knows the problem surpasses what he can do as a little brother. Knows this has to do with the family he lost, both when he lost him to Lucifer and again Lisa and Ben to the life. Knows that ever since he's been more closed up than usual, guarded and broken in a way Sam's not sure how to fix.

Not sure he _can_ fix.

He wonders if he ever got sick living with Lisa. Did he pretend he was fine until she caught on to him (which she would have easily, Deans ego wouldn't have been any match against the woman) or did he whine and complain while she ran fingers through his hair and brought him soup. Ben probably would have curled up with him on the couch, keeping him warm while Dean shivered and kept up a running commentary on some new movie Ben was trying to educate the man on. Sick, pliant Dean would have been the perfect captive audience to watch the new Harry Potter with.   

It's moments like this, when Dean is shivering on the couch sick and refusing any help that he wishes he could give him and his brother a normal life.

Maybe he doesn't, but Dean deserves so much better than this.

_"Lisa,"_

Suddenly, the pliant older man is no longer so content and he's thrashing violently in his sleep. He's letting out whimpers and repeating Lisa's name in a panic.

Sam quickly scoots over to him but he isn't sure what to do or how to help. Any sudden movements might get him a broken nose.

Dean seems to make up his mind for him though when he grabs out and ends up grasping a fistful of Sams shirt.

"Dean, hey come on, Dean wake up," Sam is repeating and grasping the older boys wrists in comfort.

The older man's eyes shot open quickly and he grabs tighter onto Sam's shirt while his eyes dart around trying to get his bearings.

They don't usually talk about Deans nightmares, they just let them be and pretend in the morning he actually got some sleep during the night. But they're not usually this verbal either, and Sam's not about to back down now.

When Dean realises where he is, and what he's doing to Sam he instantly lets go and tries to back up on the couch as far away as possible. Sam doesn't let him though, still holds his wrists gently and looks him in the eyes.

"You okay Dean?" He asks slowly, rubbing circles with his thumbs on the back of Dean's hand in an attempt to calm him down.

Dean frowns looking down at his lap, he's embarrassed clearly. Not only is he sick and Sams been hounding him all day, but now he's had a nightmare with the guy sitting next to him.

It's not like he thinks Sam buys all the macho crap he throws around on a daily basis, testosterone coming out of his ass when he can pull it off. Sam's caught him watching Dr Sexy, he's not above thinking he can pull that off.

It doesn't make this situation any less mortifying though.

"I'm fine Sammy, what are you still doing here? Should have gone to bed not sat with me. I don't need a career," He says it more angrily then he feels in an attempt to get Sam to drop it, but his younger brother has that glint in his eyes that says he refuses to let this go. Dean has been lucky with the amount of shit Sam's been willing to let go because Dean refuses to talk and just yell.

This will not be one of those times, they both know Dean's too tired to yell.

In all honestly Dean knows this has been a long time coming, but he still doesn't want to do it.

"Dean," Sam says reprimanding him with one word, he sits next to him closely, still holding his wrist gently, "What did you dream about?"

Dean scoffs, "It's nothing. I'm fine Sam."

Sam frowns trying to give his brother his best _don't lie to me_ and pathetic _please tell me look_ , combined into one. It's worked before but Sam doesn't like his chances.

Dean scoffs again and flops his head back on the side of the couch, "It's fine, really Sammy."

At least his using Sammy again, that usually means he can push to get it his way.

"You can tell me, you know. I won't judge Dean. I know it's been hard lately,"

Dean laughs humourlessly, "Oh really?"

Sam rolls his eyes and decides Dean has softened up enough from him to scoot over on the couch and rest his head on Deans shoulder. The older doesn't even flinch and when he leans back Sam knows he's at least won this battle.

"I'm sorry Dean,"

He feels Dean sigh, and then hears him cough horribly racking through his body.

"Sorry that I'm dying or sorry about everything?"

"Both?" Sam offers.

"S'not your fault Sammy. Was the right thing to do."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

"You're right."

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the company. Sam hasn't sat like this with his older brother in years. It probably should be weird given their age and careers. But Dean doesn't seem to mind, and he's not shivering anymore, which is also a plus.

Sam just needs to feel his heartbeat for a while, know that they're both there and alive. That despite everything, they've made it this far.

"I just miss them, is all," Dean says quietly after a moment which has Sam shocked, Dean hasn't mentioned them since he threatened to break Sam's nose, "It's hard, on days like this."

"You've got me," Sam says quietly, afraid of setting Dean off and realising he's said too much.

He chuckles a bit, which sets off his cough, "I do Sammy, I do."

"Does this mean you're ready to admit you're sick?" Sam tries to lighten the mood.

"Not on Dads dead body, man of steel right here," Dean laughs.

"Oh yes, man of steel doesn't get sick and fall asleep during Chuck Norris movies." Sam teases and that earns him a playful push.

Sam notices though not nearly hard enough to dislodge Sam off the man, which means Dean is content to sit here for another few minutes.

"That has never happened, and if you tell anyone I'll deny it forever," Dean mumbles, with much less hostility he had a moment ago.

"You should go to bed," Sam tries to reason and Dean just shrugs.

"Fine just here, you go to bed Sammy," Dean offers and shifts a bit on the couch so he's more comfortable. Sam just follows his lead, and within a moment he makes himself as comfortable as he's going to get, his slept upright before on far more uncomfortable surfaces and grins cheekily at his brother.

Dean just rolls his eyes and doesn't bother fighting with Sam.

He's not going to win.

"Night Sammy,"

"Night Dean,"


End file.
